


You Gotta See This, Major

by alliancedogtags



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Destroy Ending, James being a bro to beat up sheppylou, M/M, Some Spoilers, mentionings of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliancedogtags/pseuds/alliancedogtags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>brandonkeeners/generalvakarian: "Can someone write me a one shot? Really need dis, yo. Would do it myself but.</p><p>Basically, post Destroy, in which the Normandy crew gets back to Earth. James is sent to the Citadel with Major Coats (you know, the badass who was trapped in the Big Ben for days. I need him back in my life) and some other Marines to search for Anderson’s and Shepard’s (m or f, up to you) corpses. Though they do find Anderson dead, the Commander’s still alive, and they bring him/her back to Earth.<br/>The first thing James does after making sure Shepard’s being taken care of? Find his/her LI and be like “come with me, gotta show you something *puppy Vega*”</p><p>And the rest you can imagine."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Gotta See This, Major

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nickysvalentine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickysvalentine/gifts).



> I wrote this a few months back, woah, and taking on this fic prompt actually gained me a pretty rad tumblr mutual, thank you <3  
> Hope it's not OOC at all, gosh I think I wrote that all during English. I also had to make up a nickname for Kaidan, bluh

“So, Coats, what was it like being stored away up in Big Ben?” The shuttle quaked, and James reached out to grasp the bar above the door, keeping his balance. The Major shot him a sideways look, leaning his elbows on his thighs and propping his cigarette between his fingers. One of the other marines broke into a laugh.

“Trying not to shit himself, I’m sure,” crowed the young marine with a scar through his eyebrow that sat on the bench with Coats.

“Well, Vega, I can tell you it’s something I’m never going to do again,” Coats responded, tapping his cigarette so the ash landed on the shuttle floor. “What about you, Lieutenant? What was it like on the Normandy with the legendary Commander Shepard?”

“Helluva man. Beat my pull-up record, yeah?” James fiddled with a slicked clamp on his gun, looking at the screen above the door. “It’s gonna sound stupid and childish, but I almost hope we don’t find Shepard out here. Or maybe he’ll be alive.”

“That’s a bit naive, Lieutenant,” murmured the marine on the bench to James’s left. “They have vids of the Citadel exploding. No way the Commander might have survived that, hero or not.”

“Loco survived Saren and the Collectors. Is it bad to have a little hope, amigo?”

“It’s a positive view,” Coats said with a shrug. “I like it, Vega. Better than expecting only bodies.”

“We’ve seen too much death. It may be nice to actually have someone come out of this alive, you know?” The young marine from earlier with the scar cleared his throat, adjusting his seat as the shuttle wobbled.

“Who’ve you lost, son?” Major Coats took a long drag from his cigarette, looking up towards the screen.

“I haven’t heard from my girlfriend since the Reapers first landed. No family to speak of, though.” He paused, rubbing the side of his assault rifle against his thigh. “Walter?”

“My father was in the White House when Earth was attacked.” The man beside James rubbed his face, sighing. The sound of his stubble on his gauntlet echoed in the cabin. “My mother shot herself a month in. They were out in the ‘urbs. Not much hope out there.”

“Haven’t taken a tally yet.” Coats stubbed his cigarette on the metal floor.

Nobody asked Vega. They already knew the answers.

“ETA five minutes,” called the pilot, and James turned back to the door, biting his scarred bottom lip. He heard officer Walter stand up, flinching when the soldier clapped a hand on his shoulder. Major coats was speaking to the young marine sitting beside him.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Petty Officer Malcolm Kintovich, sir.”

“We’re about to go wade in ashes and bodies, Malcolm. You’re allowed to be casual right now.” Coats laughed, a gravelly tone, and James watched in the reflection as he thumped the petty officer on the back. “Well, Mal, this is Officer Walter Parks and that landmass there is James Vega of the SSV Normandy.”

“Least I’m not a twig,” James replied with a chuckle.

“ETA one minute.”

“It’s gonna be bloody down there. The weight of this war is really going to settle down in your bones. You will see batarian, asari, human, turian, quarian -- or we might just see ashes. I don’t know. But I can’t have anybody pansying out there.” Coats stood up, pulling his shotgun out of its holster. “Our priority is to find Admiral David Anderson and Commander John Shepard or any proof of their deaths. If you come across any survivors, send ‘em to the shuttle for extraction. I’m going to load all of your up with medigel in case you find wounded. If you go off-radio you will be assumed dead. Am I clear?”

“Aye aye, sir!” called out Walter and Malcolm in unison. James merely acknowledged the orders.

“We will all be within a call of each other. I don’t want anybody too far away out here.” The shuttle shook as it set down.

The door opened.

“Dios mio,” James breathed out, and the petty officers stumbled forward to see around him.

The Citadel was wrecked, buildings still intact though the windows were blown out, door slung open. Rubble littered the streets, glittering with falling ash and smeared with old, dry blood. It was pale white, an image of snow almost. And worst yet, it echoed.

“Move out!” Coats barked, sending Walter and Malcolm stumbling from the vehicle. He clapped James on the back, knocking him out of his trance. “You alright, Vega?”

“If this is what the Citadel looks like, I really don’t want to find Loco,” Jimmy whispered, and Coats pulled him from the shuttle.

“Hey. I’ll stick with you, alright Lieutenant?” Even if James felt alright enough to say no, he wouldn’t turn the offer down. Coming here, seeing this wasteland after it had been a metropolis not that long ago, hunting for his best friends amongst dead bodies -- it made his toes curl, body run cold, made him feel ready to lean over and hurl on his boots. “Why’d you come with us? Does Spectre Alenko know?”

“No, he doesn’t. I snuck out when Hackett dragged him off this morning.” James used the barrel of his assault rifle to knock over a pile of rubble, frowning. “If I didn’t get here today to help look, I’d feel like I was letting down Shepard. He’s been a very important friend of mine this entire way. I owe him mi vida, even if we just find his tags.”

 

It was two hours; all they’d found was a cowering asari matron who’d quickly obliged when they offered a rescue ride back to Earth. The tiny pinch of hope that had held in James’s chest was starting to flicker out, feet dragging in the rubble and ash.

The marines had tried joking with no success, eventually leaving a radio silence over the entire team even if they stayed within yards of each other. Now and then a squadmate would find something; Walter had uncovered a replica of the Destiny Ascension, Malcolm found a burnt but shooting Phalanx, Coats laughed bitterly when he found the Earth mineral with the Alliance symbol scraped into the surface.

“Vega, over here,” called out Walter. When James approached, the marine was crouched in front of a slouched over figure. Part of the corpse’s face was burned black, mocha skin on the untouched side, blood staining his torn Alliance uniform. Walter held a pair of partially melted dogtags to the light. “Found Anderson.”

“Tag him. The extraction team can get the body.” Coats waved the younger soldiers off to leave him alone with James, who was on his knees in front of the body. He settled a warm hand on the Lieutenant’s shoulder. “James?”

“Anderson was one tough son of a bitch, Major. If we’re finding him out here like this, how are we going to find Commander Shepard?”

“It looks grim, I know.” Coats grabbed the back of James’s armor, hauling him up. “But we have to keep looking.”

“Yeah.”

It was another half hour when a glint caught his eye. It was faint, dull, metal covered in soot with a tinge of blue on the edge. Stepping away from where he’d been lifting a support beam, he approached the reflected light, feeling his stomach sinking.

The dogtags hung over a rock, and when cupped in his palm felt leadweight. A scuffed “John M Shepard” was etched into the surface, and below it was the common information, words that meant nothing now.

“Coats, I’ve got, ah…” James didn’t want to finish the sentence. Smoothing a gloved thumb over the worn off edge, he took a breath to steel himself. Faintly aware of the presence his approaching squadmates carried, he bit down hard on his bottom lip and turned around to show the tags to the Major.

Only, they didn’t come with. They swept from his palm, slapping back against the rubble.

It was as though they were around something. Leaning up, James began to clear away the chunks of rubble, pawing the pile apart bit by bit, finding hands joining his in the digging effort.

The rubble heaved and moved, part of it shifting to reveal sapphire eyes amongst dirt and blood. And the figure was breathing.

“Loco!” James shouted, clearing away more and more debris until John was freed from the rocks and metal. Shepard groaned, scabbed hands balling into fists.

“Commander Shepard has been recovered. We need the medical evac shuttle to the navpoints I’m forwarding to you,” Coats called into his headset. He spun around to face walter, who was watching in awe. “Officer, get a dose of medigel in the Commander. Malcolm and I are going to see if there’s any more survivors before we get Shepard out of here.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Walter barked, stepping into the space beside James, who was inspecting his companion with a wave of relief; one that warmed his bones and made his hands shaky. While Walter primed the needle on the tube, one of John’s hands ran over a melted patch of armor on his chest, before lifting the hand.

“James?”

He sounded unused, empty. But alive. The last time James had hear him talk, he’d shouted orders, telling James and Kaidan to get the hell out of the warzone.

“Here, Shepard,” James responded, taking the Commander’s shaking hand. Weak, but solid. There was warmth, there were burn scabs that caught on the palm of his gauntlet, there was a shake in his squeeze. Alive. And shit, it beat the high amount of odds they’d gone into that last fight with. “Malcolm said it was naive to hope you were alive! Ese pendejo!”

“Did?” John’s mouth formed around a few more words, but they didn’t escape, failing at the tip of his tongue. He sounded like a broken radio link. “Reapers?”

“Gone, amigo.” Jimmy squeezed the CO’s hand, managing to distract John long enough for Walter to insert the medigel needle into his hip. Once the dose was in, John groaned in relief, dirty and bloody face softening a bit under the cuts and bruises. “You saved the galaxy by going batshit insane and charging into that beam. Guess you wanted to put meaning behind your nickname, eh Loco?”

The shuttle set down behind them; not the one they’d arrived in. This one was painted red and white, door flinging open to pour out a team of medics that rushed over with a stretcher. Coats and Malcolm rejoined them, though stayed out of the way, allowing the Lieutenant to use the available space to keep talking to John.

To keep the Commander busy. By the way his faste twisted and he cried out when the medics moved him to the stretcher, he needed a distraction.

When the doctors were all packed into the shuttle and James was momentarily kicked out, he turned to Coats.

“I have to tell Alenko.”

“Take the other shuttle and bring the marines with, Vega.” The Major clapped him on the back to silence James when he went to reply. “I’ll go with the medics and help John. Just don’t take too long; I don’t want to linger at the hospital long enough for the docs to recognize me.”

“Thank you, Major,” James breathed out after the soldier motioned to his back leg.

“Get the hell outta here, Vega. Go pick up your Spectre.”

*      *      *

“Baby Blue!” James exclaimed when the cabin door opened, adjusting his fresh cotton Alliance shirt. Kaidan sat behind his desk, rubbing his face and startling visibly when the marine entered.

“James, where have you been?” Kaidan’s hands dropped to the desk, causing the photograph of him and John to bobble on the edge dangerously. “And why haven’t you been answering any messages? I was worried --”

“No time to be worried, Major. I’ve got something you need to see. Come with me.” James halted in front of the desk, looking at the pile of datapads sitting on the surface.

That’s how it had been for Kaidan since the war had ‘ended’. Working until dark lines were painted over his bottom eyelids, honey eyes tired and empty, brow permanently creased in the middle. He’d told James and Liara at one point that the work helped him not think about John, aside from the pile of tasks that both the Alliance and the Council had saddled him with.

He didn’t know that Vega recognized the grieving puffyness in his eyes, red-rimmed and dull.

“I have work to do, James --”

“C’mon,” James gave the Major a pleading look, all soft-faced and begging. Once, Tali had observed that it made her think of the puppies she saw in Earth vids, to which John had shouldered Garrus and told him that it was a lot more like Urz, a varren they’d supposedly ‘adopted’ on Tuchanka. “Humor me here, Baby Blue.”

That look always got him what he wanted, that was for sure. With a long sigh, Kaidan pushed away from the desk, standing and shaking his head. “Fine, Vega. It better be good.”

“Oh, it’s gonna be good,” James replied with a big grin. “Shuttle’s outside.”

Kaidan left the office, the Lieutenant practically bouncing along at his heels.

Yeah, it was gonna be good.


End file.
